


In the Strangest Place (We Just Might Find Love)

by Anika_Ann



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: (sorry), Attempt at Humor, Awesome Tony Stark, Cliché but Serious Topic Guys, Closets, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Fluff, Friendship, Hiding in a supply closet, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Sexual Harassment, Matchmaker Sam Wilson, Matchmaking, Meet-Cute, No Smut, Reader Needs a Hug, Reader-Insert, Sam Wilson Is a Good Bro, Steve Rogers Needs a Hug, Steve Rogers is a good man, workplace harassment
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-07
Updated: 2018-12-09
Packaged: 2019-09-13 14:47:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,264
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16894623
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anika_Ann/pseuds/Anika_Ann
Summary: You’re hiding from your boss in a supply closet, minding your own business, when a stranger joins you unexpectedly. This is not a beginning of a steamy story; given the reason you’re hanging out in the dark, even a make-out session is honestly the last thing you want to fantasize about right now.But that doesn’t mean that the nice stranger cannot make your day much better.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I have no idea how that happened. It just popped out in my head and wouldn’t let my brain think of anything else, which was as awesome as annoying. (I kinda blame some_fiction. Told ya your comments made me think of Steve more. Thank you for it, though ;) ) 
> 
> Steve is a little bit of Knight-In-Shining-Armour here, but it made sense to me. Also, there are lots of F-bombs from the very start.
> 
> I hope you’ll enjoy. Happy reading!

You were on the verge of screaming – or crying, you honestly weren't sure anymore. But you knew you were done. You had worked your fingers to a bone just to get here. To become a little bee in the most famous hive in Manhattan. Stark Industries. The Stark/Avengers Tower. The beacon of the New York skyline. The dream coming true.

Yeah, not so much.

You hadn't expected super-important assignments, after all, you were just an assistant to the head of one of too many departments, but God, you had not expected to be handing coffee so often. To be running ridiculous errands. Your degree from MIT should actually mean something here. If nothing else, than that you were not just some pretty face and that you fucking didn’t deserve the treatment you were receiving. And _that_ was the root of trouble, really. You could handle making your way up, it would be tiring but expected, it was pretty much what you had assigned for.

But you had not assigned for the sexist comments, disgusting innuendo and for the grabby hands of your sleazy boss. Thomas Gregory was a fucking nightmare of a boss and you swore that you were quitting if he called you a ‘Dollface’ or slapped your ass one more time.

And that was how you had got here, into this very moment, hiding in a dark supply closet like a creep with two cups of overpriced coffee in a cup holder and a piece of organic carob-nut muffin.

You weren't about to come out any time soon, because you simply _knew_ your boss still would be a pig and give you yet another reason to hand in your notice and you had fucking wanted this job for so long, worked for it so hard and sacrificed too much that you just couldn't make yourself to quit no matter how much your whole skin cringed and your stomach rolled over every time Thomas Gregory touched you. It was so frustrating you wanted to scream.

Or cry, you still couldn't solve the dilemma.

You barely registered the hurried footsteps – and then the door was yanked open, you glimpsed a tall blond male figure and suddenly there was dark again. Except there was one more body in the very limited room of the closet, making you press your back onto the shelf.

Something rattled with your movement and the newcomer hissed a barely audible _‘Be quiet’_ as two columns of muscles that were probably his arms framed your head leaning onto the very same shelf, so you could both fit in here. The little order leaving his lips broke the last seal inside you. You were tired, frustrated and were receiving enough humiliation as it was, you did not need some random guy invading your hideout, barking around orders.

“Look, mister, if you have any problem with me trying to make a little space for you in this tiny-ass closet, I recommend you to-”  

“Shh!” he hushed you and you thought you had never heard someone whisper so urgently; at least it sounded less bossy than before. It did not mollify you though, because this guy actually had enough impudence to-

“Don't you dare to _shush me_ -”

A hand went to cover your mouth and you let out an exasperated mumble of curses, while his voice continued.

“Please, just— I'm sorry, please, don't make a sound, my friend is trying to set me up and-”

Your eyes went wide and he suddenly fell silent. Before you could question his methods of shutting you up, his exclaim or the pause, and ask him to be so kind to find another closet, another male voice sounded somewhere behind the door.

“Come on, Steeeve. Man, don't be such a prude. Lillian is a great chic, okay?”

The friend seemed annoyed and you couldn't believe that _Steve_ had not been kidding you. He was actually hiding for the very reason he had offered you. You nodded as you heard the stranger behind the door move and the hand covering your mouth hesitantly disappeared.

“It's just a lip piercing, don't be such a tight-ass. It can actually be quite fun, you wouldn't believe what a girl can do with such thing…”

 _“Gross,”_ you commented soundlessly and you could feel your companion’s eyes burning a hole into your head in silent agreement.

“Goddammit, Steve!”

The voice and the footsteps slowly disappeared in the distance and you… you were face to face with a stranger named Steve in a limited space of a dark supply closet, his breath tickling your scalp, his cologne very much assaulting your nose; at least it was a pleasant assault.

“I'm sorry for being so rude. And thank you,” his voice caressed your hairline gently and hearing his suddenly polite tone and evaluating this whole situation, you could barely hold back a giggle all of sudden.

“You're welcome, _Steve_. How long has this been going on?”

“Two days-” That didn't sound too bad, he should take a lot more- “-at this level. With Lillian. It was Emily before that and Angelina before that. In smaller scale, it's been happening for about four months,” he recited dutifully as if he was reporting a status to his boss and this time you couldn’t help it – you giggled.

When you could feel the wounded gaze he gave you, you obediently made a sympathetic noise.

“Aww, poor you, your friend supplying you with no doubt great relationship material…”

“That’s what he said! But I don't want a relationship material. I don't want any material, not even his… one-night stand material. What does that mean anyway? These are women he's talking about, not a _material-”_

You let out a tiny pleased sound at his exasperation, which shut him up. You wondered if it was your turn to speak – it was hard to tell, supply-closet conversations weren't exactly your area of expertise.

“Kudos for that thinking,” you noted after short silence and the darker shadow of his figure tilted his head. “Did you try to tell him that you weren't interested…? Of course you did, why am I asking, that was a stupid question…”

“It's okay. I'm sorry, I got a little… carried away. It just… it's like talking to a brick wall.”

You hummed in sympathy again and the room fell into silence once more.

It was ridiculous how much your mind started working over hundred percent, trying to come up with something appropriate to say. The best you could do was:

“Hey, you want a cup of overpriced organic coffee? I happen to have two.”

The needy noise that let his lips was downright pornographic. Or maybe it was your mind playing tricks on you, the strange environment finally getting to you.

“I knew I smelled coffee here. I thought I went completely insane.”

You couldn't help but smile at that. Yeah, you knew the feeling all too well.

“Nope, your senses were not playing tricks on you. Help yourself. It should be around your left hand.” A rustling of a paper bag. “Oh. That's a carob-nut muffin – with carob instead of cocoa. You can have that too, I won't need that.”

“Alright, I gotta ask. Why are _you_ hiding in a supply closet, with a muffin and two cups of expensive coffee nonetheless? And may I hand you one?”

“Such a gentleman. Thanks,” you murmured and accepted the cup. You weren't lying about not needing it – you wouldn't. Because you were about to quit; it was inevitable.

You sipped the warm liquid, its taste as bitter as the reason behind your actions.

“So?”

“I'm hiding from my boss.”

Your voice must have sounded terrible, because his own softened at the confession.

“And why is that?”

“Because if I bring him his coffee and muffin, he'll probably call me his good girl and— and slap my butt and-”

“I beg your pardon?” he growled, like _honest to God_ growled, the strange sound warming your scalp.

And it was the righteous outrage in the sound he let out, the reaction that you needed, someone agreeing with you – a stranger, who wouldn’t feel obliged to do so just it was an obligation of being a good friend to you – that made the levee break. Suddenly tears were strolling down your face, anger and humiliation, and your breath was hitching in embarrassing hiccups and the dark space felt so anonymous and safe at the same time that you _didn't even care anymore_.

“And if he does that I’ll have to– to quit, because I-I'm so fucking fed up with his dis-disgusting hands and si-sickening voice venting his _lizard_ thoughts a-and I ca-can't quit _goddammit,_ I worked so fucking hard to-to get a job h-here and-”

You didn't realise your hands started trembling until the cup disappeared from them, placed back on the shelf, and a pair of much bigger and warmer hands gently enveloped yours, his body shifting just a little closer as he lost the support that had been keeping some distance between you.

“Hey, hey, shh, it's gonna be okay…” his voice washed over you soothingly, sounding almost at your ear.

Still, there was a space between your bodies, a respectable distance – as respectable as possible in the limited space. It was as if he acknowledged it could make you uncomfortable – which probably wasn't that hard to figure out, given what you just told him.

“I'm sorry,” you sobbed and cleared your throat afterwards in attempt to compose yourself. “I didn't mean to load that on you, my problems are none of your concern-”

“Like _hell_ they aren't. Sexual harassment on a workplace is everyone's concern, or it should be,” he grunted. His hands tightened their grip, not uncomfortably – reassuring. “This okay?”

You smiled through your tears. This Steve guy was really sweet to you. You almost forgot what it was like to be treated with respect.

“Y-yeah. Thank you for-- for asking. That was really nice.”

He huffed. “It should be a normal human decency. And I _did_ grab you before that, sorry.”

“Something tells me you would let go if I said no.”

“Of course I would.”

You gave him a watery smile he couldn't see and tried to calm your breathing completely. His thumb caressing your wrist helped. You wondered which department he was from, if his skills in comforting came with a job description or if he was a natural.

“Have you… have you tried to fill in a report?” he asked hesitantly, making your heart stop.

Oh yeah, you had. It had ended up in a shredder machine, because Thomas had spotted it. He had made you do it yourself, standing over you and watching, claiming the complaint had been baseless and it would pointless to hand it anyway, because he would explain the HR how it _truly_ had been. That you had made a move and he, the good father and husband he had been, had politely turned you down, which had turned you vengeful.

You whispered the story to Steve, your voice trembling, more tears escaping and you could immediately tell he believed you – because his grip grew steely strong, his teeth grinding.

“This is wrong. You should have never been forced to work for a man like him– objectifying you, touching you, _threatening you_ , that's just-- you should talk to Tony,” he blurted out in the end and you frowned.

“Who's Tony?”

You had checked the whole HR department via their website when doing your research. You couldn't recall any Tony.

There was a short pause, broken by Steve's confused voice. “Stark.”

You blinked, wondering if Steve was joking. He didn't sound like he was joking, which was strange, because so far, he had seemed to be a smart and reasonable man.

“There's no way I'm scoring a meeting with Mr. Stark. And it's not like he’s dealing with things like that.”

“...Talk to Pepper then. I doubt she has bigger than zero tolerance for harassment,” he exclaimed confidently as if talking to Pepper Potts (this time you assumed whom he was talking about – did he call all of the big bosses their first name…?) was an option for a regular human being like you. Realizing that all over again though, that was tough.

“While I believe that’s her policy, it's not like I can just walk into her office.”

Steve seemed to consider that, while his thumb was still drawing patterns on your skin, almost subconsciously.

“I think you could. But if you're worried it might take a while and you’re scared to go back to your office now, let me walk you. I can explain him that every employee deserves to be treated with respect,” he offered finally, deadly serious, yet still sounding kind.

Your heart swelled. A guy whom you just met (in a supply closet, a good story to be narrated at parties, you supposed), suggested to help you out, no hesitation. God, wasn't he just too pure for this world?

“I… thank you, Steve. But… while you do have an impressive frame, I think it would only get worse. I think I'll just enjoy this extremely hipster coffee, which I'll later have to pay for no doubt and… and go face my boss to hand him my resignation. There are plenty jobs, right? I can as well serve coffee in a café,” you said with a sad smile, letting your hands slip from his comfortable hold.

“That's not right. Especially if you worked hard to– not to mention it's a matter of principle. You run away once and… running is a very hard habit to break,” he whispered as a secret, trying to reason with you.

You bit your lip when the truth of his words washed over you, along with the way he spoke; with such a strong believe in principles that should stand a standard. It… _he_ made you forgot your own trouble for a second as you let yourself get lost in him. In the way he treated you, the protector's persona, yet not forced. He had suggested to ‘ _let him_ come with you’, not even a note of command in his approach. This was not a man seeing an opportunity to be a hero when spotting the damsel in distress; this was a man who believed in what was right and wanted to fix things that were apparently broken. You wished there were more men like him, selfishly wanting one of them to be your boss.

“And men like these – they need to be put in line,” he added darkly, snapping you from your daydreaming of a better world. “Let me come with you. I'll—I’ll help you fill in the forms, walk you to HR. You don't have to deal with this alone.”

For all the comfort the dark had offered you so far, you wished for a little bit more light now, enough to see his face, his eyes. You knew they would be burning with honesty, you were sure of it, maybe a little rage aimed at a man who dared to treat another human being the way he did.

The offer was _so_ tempting. But just imagining the security escorting Steve from the building for wanting to help you was enough to put out the fiery need to accept. It was ridiculous to care so much about his well-being after what could be minutes of knowing him, but no one could call you out on it. And if they did, you could always play it cool with ‘matter of principles’; good people only deserved good things.

You carefully reached out, hoping to find his hand again. Your heart skipped a beat when you brushed his thigh instead, but at least his hand was right next to it. He released a surprised breath when you took it into yours, way smaller one. You bit your lip when leaning in a little, blindly trying to meet his gaze.

“You’re a good man, Steve. I’m sorry your friend is giving you a hard time, you don't deserve that – even though I'm sure he means well. If you ever want to get him off your back...” you wavered at the ridiculous idea, but hey, why the hell not, he had offered to help you out first, “you can say you're seeing someone. Give him my card. I'll confirm we're together – he seems like a kind of a guy who would check.”

He let out a surprised breathless laugh and you assumed you hit the nail on the head. You fished out one of your business cards, handing it to him and releasing his hand then.

It was time to leave and face your fate, but Steve didn't make any attempt at moving out of the closet.

In fact, he seemed to examine it for a while and then read out your name quietly. You gasped, shocked. How the hell could he see anything? You could barely make out his silhouette!

“How-”

“I'm used to working in dark spaces,” he muttered absently. “Would you really do that?”

Slightly surprised he was considering your offer, you nodded, only to realize he couldn't see it– actually, he probably could.

“I would. Hell, I think I could handle one uncomfortable dinner with your friend vetting me,” you added, slightly amused at the idea.

You could hear his shocked exhale and wanted to take it back. “I didn't mean to-”

“Let me come with you to your office,” he repeated like a broken record and you frowned at the sudden change of topic.

“What-”

“It could throw your boss off of your back for long enough for you to deal with the complaint. If you would be comfortable enough to play my girlfriend for a dinner time, why not now?”

Your eyes went wide and you almost choked on air.

“I-what? I told you it would probably only make it worse-”

“It will _work_.”

“How can you be so-”

The door yanked open and your eyes were hit by an unpleasantly sharp light, making you squint.

“Holy-” a ridiculously familiar voice you couldn’t place breathed out. “Wilson! I found him! You’ve gotta see this!”

You wanted to see the owner of the voice, but your view was completely blocked by the broad chest of your companion.

You at least raised your head to meet Steve face to face, so to speak. You couldn’t see much, your eyes still adjusting; with the light shining from behind him, playing a mysterious game with his blond locks, framing his impressive figure, he looked like a freaking angel, beautiful and righteous, bringing justice, yet enwrapped in an aura of peace and serenity. You barely kept your jaw from falling on the floor.

You kept staring, focusing on his face, and slowly started realizing that his features too, were familiar. Mortification was creeping up your back as the puzzle pieces started falling into place, creating a horrifying picture, making you wish for the Earth to swallow you.

The voice from behind Steve’s back resolved the last doubts you had about your temporary mysterious roommate.

“Wouldn’t peg you as a sex-in-a-closet kind of guy, Capsicle.”

You wanted to immediately protest that you had definitely _not_ been having sex in the closet, but your brain was still frozen because of the big revelation – that you had just been comforted, hell, that you had just _offered to be a fake date_ to Captain America.

You simply started at him, not being able to hold your jaw from falling anymore. Because– because-- oh god.

Now it made perfect sense that he thought Thomas Gregory would be intimidated… by the idea of harassing Captain America's girlfriend. You couldn’t really blame _Steve_ for being sure it would work. Also, it kinda explained why he called Mr. Stark or Ms. Potts their first name – they _were_ on the first name basis.

Which really was the least relevant thing right now.

A bashful smile appeared on Steve’s lips, a little guilty perhaps, and you just… giggled at the absurdity. You couldn’t help it. You had just spent minutes in a supply closet with Steve Rogers without having a single clue about it and while you hadn't done anything heated as someone would assume, it was one of the most amazing minutes of your life.

You must have looked like an idiot or something, because he chuckled too, completely ignoring another male voice arriving.

“Holy hell, Man! I can’t believe what I’m seeing!”

At those words, Steve tentatively took your hand with an encouraging smile and led you out to the hall. You were met with two pairs of curious eyes examining you from head to toe. You lowered your gaze, now fully aware of the fact they belonged to Tony Stark – the Iron Man – and Samuel Wilson – The Falcon.

Well. Now the party story finally got the right juice.

“Then don’t, Sam, because it’s not what it looks like,” Steve replied to his match-maker friend and took a deep breath, squeezing your hand tighter. “Tony, this woman would like to report harassment on her workplace.”

Your head snapped to Steve’s face with panicked gaze. What the hell was he doing?!

Tony Stark made a noise of disapproval.

“Couldn’t you try harder so she wouldn’t complain about you?”

“Tony,” Steve addressed him, his voice solemn just like his expression, which surprised the billionaire. “I’m serious. It’s not about me. Her boss is the reason why she was hiding here.”

Without commenting any further, Steve handed him your business card and Mr. Stark hummed. You weren’t brave enough to look up. Was he going to wave it off? Was he going to fire you?

He said your name, making you gulp in fright. You had to look up now; you were shocked to meet with a searching gaze, but not a mean one.

“It is true? Is your boss giving you trouble? Making sexist comments? Worse?”

You felt tears in your eyes, utterly taken aback by his sensitive tone, the inviting light in his eyes. It was too much to bear and you wanted to escape the kind gaze; he wouldn’t let you. You only managed to nod when you felt Steve’s thumb caressing the back of your hand.

Mr. Stark sighed, adding a dark ‘goddammit’, and returned Steve the business card.

“Alright, kids. Let’s have a trip.”

And you just stared.

_…what?_

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

_“Alright, kids. Let’s have a trip.”_

_And you just stared._

_…what?_

“W-what?” you stuttered, suddenly consumed by the familiar feeling of losing the firm ground under your feet at the image of trying to confront Gregory head on. Steve at your side was not helping at all as the four of you started walking towards the IT department.

“I-I don’t have any prove. I can’t-- he told me he would--- that he would-”

“That he would twist it around, convince the HR that you were crushing on him and he turned you down, which turned you into a soulless bitch craving revenge?” the billionaire finished and you just uselessly opened you mouth, unable to let out a word to deny it. It seemed to amuse him, because he scoffed; and there was something very bitter in that sound too. “Kid, he’s not the first asshole to take advantage of his superior position. I’ve seen those types. Relax. If Cap believes you, then so do I. Plus, I know a liar when I see him. And you ain’t lying.”

You breathed in shakily, a flicker of hope igniting in your chest. Could it really be so easy?

“T-thank you, Mr. Stark. I-”

“Yeah, yeah, just name your first kid after me.”

The Falcon next to you chuckled and you shot Steve a confused gaze. Was that how Mr. Stark usually was? You had never met him in person – you heard him give a speech on TV, you knew he had a reputation, but this was… different.

You were surprised to find Steve watching you; perhaps he worried about your reaction, since he had seen your outburst in the closet. He charmed a tiny smile for you.

“It’s gonna be okay, see?”

“What are you even worried about? You have three Avengers coming with you!” Mr. Wilson questioned lightly and you bit your lower lip. Yeah, and they were all men, sue you for not being sure which side they would take – not until now.

“You’re not a full-time Avenger, Wilson.”

Falcon gasped, clutching at his chest theatrically. “Ouch, Tony. My heart.”

You let out a breathy laugh at their banter and felt yourself relax despite your better judgement. You almost let yourself believe it truly would go alright. Well, as much as such a shitty thing could.

“You’re all my heroes,” you whispered timidly and Sam Wilson gave you a bright smile.

“Thank you, ma’am.”

“Cruel, Birdboy. You stole the old man’s line.”

“Heh, sorry, Steve. I’m sure you have a whole set of other lines you would like to use on her.”

You choked on your own spit as Steve faltered in his steps, his grip on you growing stronger. What the hell did he just say?

“Oh my God, Wilson, shut up before we get stuck with another harassment report.”

“I don’t think this a subject for joking,” Steve interjected and you shot him a grateful look. Except… when you would not be in such a sticky situation, you definitely wouldn’t mind Steve Rogers using a line on you. Not at all. And his hand around yours felt nice for multiple reasons, the wordless comfort only being one of them.

But now, it was _so_ not the time.

Your peculiar group approached the office and you didn’t even had the time to brace yourself as Tony Stark threw the door open.

“Thomas Ian Gregory, you are fired this very second,” he exclaimed dramatically, and you would think he _was_ just being a drama queen, except he sounded deadly serious, using your boss’ full name which he must have read out on the door, and his eyes were throwing daggers at the man sitting behind the desk as if he was the fucking king of the world.

Your boss blinked in surprise and eyed all four of you; Falcon with his arms crossed on his chest, Tony Stark with a murderous glare and a hand raised towards him as if he wanted to point a finger and then Gregory’s gaze fell on your hand connected with Steve’s; you wanted to retrieve it quickly, but Steve wouldn’t let you, his grip growing firm. Anger flashed through your boss’ eyes for a second, before he composed himself and rose from his chair with an innocent confused expression.

You wanted to puke and you felt your legs turning into a shaking mess of jello. This was it. Now he would use his slimy words to turn this situation around and you were about to get fired and humiliated so much that jumping under a bus would be the most likeable option for you.

“Mr. Stark, it’s an honour. Captain Rogers, Mr. Wilson. What do I owe the pleasure?”

Tony fucking Stark was not fooled by the charade though and you mentally sighed in relief, sure they must have heard the weight falling off of your shoulders in Jersey.

“I’m sure you heard me, Mr. Gregory. You quit and you’ll be hearing from the HR soon. And you’ll be damn lucky if this young lady right here won’t sue you.”

You honestly wished you were invisible when Gregory’s gaze flickered to you. “I’m afraid I don’t understand, Mr. Stark. If this is about the unfortunate feelings my assistant has for me-”

Tears of rage and baseless shame stung in your eyes at his words and you breathed in sharply to defend yourself, but Gregory continued.

“Though I can see they weren’t very… honest. Obviously my inferior seems to be the ‘love them and leave them’ type, which I should warn you about, Capta-”

Breathless at his malicious made-out theories, you did not expect Steve to drop your hand in favour to tower over your boss and made him shut up with one single glare.

Alright, you could see why he had thought that simply appearing at your office would make Gregory tremble in fear. Your boss actually backed off and leant onto a table, looking as if he was supporting himself under the weight of Steve’s judgement.

“I met this woman for the first time not half an hour ago, as she was hiding from you, too scared of your dirty hands to return to her own workplace. Trust me, it left an impression, just like you are leaving one now. If I can give an advice, you pack your things as fast as you can, apologize to her profusely, crawling, and you don’t set a foot in this building or speak to her ever again. Do we have an understanding?”

Your boss tried to reciprocate Captain America’s glare, but he failed miserably. He visibly gulped and circled his desk, still watching the soldier as if he was expecting to get hit; then his eyes just dropped to his desk and he frantically started picking random things from it.

You watched the scene in front of you, paralyzed. Your heart was beating its way out of your chest, pulsing in your temples, your breathing stopping. Your vision started to swim.

_Holy. Shit._

“Cap, I think you broke her.”

Steve spun to you at instant, his eyes roaming your face; or you thought so. He looked worried now; _or you thought so._ Thinking and frankly evaluating the stimuli your senses were receiving was a bit difficult at the moment.

What the hell had just happened?

Gentle hands took yours, leading you out of the room. You blindly followed, unsure how to put one foot in front of the other, your body running on autopilot.

It was over. Thomas Gregory was no longer your boss and it had happened without you losing your job. And Steve Rogers had scolded him as if he was a five-year old kid – a very pervert one, but a kid nonetheless. Steve put a fucking fear of God into him. All of that happening within three minutes. And you just… couldn’t quite process all that.

You barely registered getting into and out of an elevator, being seated on a couch, having a blanket tossed over your shoulders and a cup of warm liquid pressed into your hands. You automatically brought it to your lips, only to be stopped by a hand curling around yours.

“Careful. It might be too hot,” a pleasant voice warned you and you blinked, finally focusing your gaze, finding rather worried and very handsome face staring back. You glanced at the cup, surprised to identify the drink as his hand let go of yours.

“Is that… is that hot chocolate?” you asked, bewildered. Well, more like… _astonished_.

“Yeah. You’re not allergic to milk or anything, are you?”

You looked up back to Steve’s face, only to find him with his brows furrowed in concern.

“No! No. It’s just… I didn’t have one in years. Thank— thank you.”

His expression cleared, evidently pleased with himself. “Good. You’re welcome.”

The words fell off his lips _so_ easily. As if he just hadn’t… hadn’t saved your career. Or your mental health, really.

You eyed the table by the couch, setting the cup down, only to fully turn to him. He seemed a bit confused at that; but God, you had something important to say and since you didn’t want to give up the blanket just yet, you decided to get rid of the mug at least to look less pathetic.

“No, Steve, I… _thank you,”_ you whispered sincerely, feeling tears in your eyes for like a millionth time that day. His smile widened a little.

“You’re welcome. I’m sorry if I… if I scared you down there. It wasn’t meant for you.”

“You didn’t-” you blurted out in attempt to deny it and make him feel better, only to waver as his eyebrow rose. It made you chuckle at yourself self-deprecatingly. “It’s not your fault that I was… surprised by your little hulk-out. I guess I just didn’t see it coming.”

“Hulk-out, huh? Okay. How do you feel?”

“Like I just watched my life take a way better turn that I would expect... and I’m still only watching,” you whispered honestly, which led to his face twisting in a grimace.

“Anything I can do?”

You couldn’t help it; you looked around, realizing you were in something that looked fancy enough to belong to Tony Stark and was way too big to be part of an actual apartment. You ran your hand down the blanket covering your shoulders, reaching for the abandoned cup to blow on it softly and take a careful sip of chocolate. Steve’s questioning gaze observed you while you did so and you smiled blissfully into the cup as the delicious rich taste caressed your tongue.

“You mean beside comforting me despite being a complete stranger, getting my harassing boss fired and scaring the hell out of him, taking me to-- here, giving me a blanket and making the best cup of hot chocolate I had in years? Give me a second, I’m sure I’ll figure out something else,” you babbled and Steve’s smile grew. “Seriously, Steve. This is the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me. I owe you. I- I know you’re a hero and all that, but… yeah. I should be asking you that question.”

“That’s not-- I’m not-- ...you make a pleasant company,” he said in the end as if he realized he couldn't deny any of the things you had listed. You lowered your gaze to the chocolate as his eyes twinkled at the statement.

“Ditto.”

“Does that-” he blurted out and you tilted your head as he stopped abruptly again. “This is a terrible timing, but that’s apparently an infamous quality of mine, because usually I wait too long, and…uhm…”

Your heart skipped a beat at the suddenly embarrassed soldier scratching the back of his neck, peeking at your through his eyelashes. Was that…? No, it _couldn’t_ be.

“Yeah?” you softly encouraged him to continue.

He wetted his lips. “I understand that it’s the last thing you’re thinking about right now, but… when you settle down again... and things are a bit calmer for you… would you- uhm,  like to… maybe spend some more time-- with me?”

If he had blurted the sentence in one go, you would have dropped your mug in surprise. But he didn’t so your brain had enough time to process the words slowly leaving his lips, one after another, bashful and hopeful. Your heart was speeding up with each of them, ready to burst when he finished with a tiny nervous smile.

 _Well._ How could you possibly say no to that irresistible creature in front of you? You smiled into your drink.

“Yeah, I’d like that.”

His face lit up. “Really?”

You wanted to chuckle at the pure surprise on his face, but it was just too endearing and you rather had to fight the urge to make an embarrassing sound like an aww.

“Yeah, Steve. I’d _really_ like that,” you repeated, hiding the teasing note in your voice. “But you’ve got to teach me how to make a chocolate that good, because seriously, it tastes amazing.”

“I can’t do that.”

“Why not?” you demanded, a bit hurt. “I don’t want you to give up your secret recipe right away! Just… in time.”

He grinned at you boyishly, leaning a bit closer to you. You held your breath. “I could. But then I wouldn’t get to enjoy the process of preparing it for you and your smile in return.”

You stared at him for few moments, taking the statement in, wondering if he was teasing you or being serious. The corners of his lips were quirked up as if he was indeed joking, but there was a certain spark of honesty in his eyes.

You decided to play along, whether it was a game or not. Perhaps it was the relief of newly found freedom of a sleazy man in your life that plucked up your courage and woke up your jovial side.

“Aww, Steve, that’s so sweet. Is that your way of telling me you’re planning on spoiling me? Because then I would need significantly less time to… _settle down._ ”

He grinned a little wider. “Is that so?”

“Mm.”

“Well then…” he brought up lowly, torturing you with anticipation when he didn’t continue, only to watch you with a mischievous smile.

“...then?”

“What are your plans for Friday evening?”

Oh, you were _so_ glad you were sitting, because otherwise the force of the moment in which Steve Rogers asked you out on Friday night would knock you down. You tried to think of an answer that wouldn’t sound like an over-enthusiastic YES, but his blue eyes staring into yours made it very difficult for you.

Dammit, it was harder to talk to him when you could actually see-- you smiled smugly, raising an eyebrow in silent challenge.

“I’m hiding in a supply closet. Why, you wanna join me?”

He burst out laughing, throwing his head back, and the picture was so heart-warming it was unfair.

“Sure thing. Would you like me to bring muffins and coffee or do you prefer an actual dinner?”

You found yourself laughing too and you suddenly believed that your life would indeed get better. It already had, after all.

  


  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The angst is dead, long live the fluff!  
> I’m not sure I like this second part much, but it exists, so…

**Author's Note:**

> Second part will involve the actual confrontation, but I'm gonna need to work on that a bit more ;)
> 
> Also. Just saw the trailer for Avengers: Endgame. One word: wow.  
> (And I kinda miss Steve's beard? Didn't expect him to be shaven all of sudden :D Just... uh.)


End file.
